


In Brilliance Beyond Survival

by CrystallizedTears



Series: The Light Beyond Survival - Season 5 speculative universe [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, season 5 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedTears/pseuds/CrystallizedTears
Summary: They survived so much, and finally, Clarke and Bellamy get time to just ... be. Time for the two of them in the green spot Clarke knows about, time to connect and establish who they're going to be going forward.This is an extra to my story In the Light, We Survive, taking place after chapter 101 and before the Epilogue. There is some smut, but nothing too explicit. It is mostly Bellarke domestic fluff.





	In Brilliance Beyond Survival

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of filler between the last chapter of In the Light and its epilogue that just won't leave me ... enjoy!

Polis was eerie, a scar on the landscape, a shadow of its former glory. Bellamy couldn't help but hold his breath for the first few seconds when the top of what remained of the tower came into view through the Rover's window. He'd seen it before, obviously, when freeing those trapped in the Bunker; but he'd been so focused on getting his sister to safety that he'd not really taken it in completely.

Not like now, as Clarke shut off the Rover's engine just beyond the limits of what had once been a sprawling city. They were parked by the ruins of the wall that had once held a sign showing the Grounder's hatred of weapons within their sacred city, which now lay crumbled and singed in the dirt.

The once-bustling city was empty, despite the three hundred people who had returned to it over the last few weeks. Bellamy's eyes swept over the expanse of destroyed earth ahead of him, finally releasing his breath as Clarke's fingers rested on the back of his clenched hand.

He was here for a reason, and it wasn't to stare at the destroyed landscape.

'You ready?'

'No.' He glanced over at her, swallowing hard even as she pushed her fingers through his to entwine their hands together in comfort. 'Think she'll even consider talking to me?'

'Only one way to find out.' Clarke gave his hand a squeeze, and her lips curved in a soft smile. 'Come on. The sooner the better, right?'

Yeah, the sooner the better … but facing Octavia, remembering the fury and disgust in her eyes the last time he saw her? Having to face her at all was questionable, but he couldn't leave his sister the way he had.

The ground beneath him crunched as he lowered himself from the Rover, Clarke's eyes watching him with that same precision he'd seen from Abby and Mya. Despite the echo of pain in his stomach, he kept his arms to his side in a minor act of defiance. A grazed kidney and still-healing entry wound were nothing, after all.

They didn't have to walk far towards Polis. Perhaps a minute beyond the ruins, shapes emerged in the distance. Bellamy paused, keeping his hands down as Clarke came to a stop beside him. 'They have weapons,' he murmured at her questioning touch. 'Let's wait here and not give them a reason to use them.'

He schooled his features into a calm mask as the figures came closer. When they were about twenty feet away, he started to recognise them.

Indra led four others, each carrying an assault rifle in their hands, their weapons of choice – swords, bows, spears – strapped to their backs. So much for the no weapons rule. Two of them, he didn't recognise; the others, he did.

Yelende was one of them, the brutal expression on her face frightening in its intensity. The implication of her presence raised fear in Bellamy's chest. She'd expressed dissatisfaction about Octavia's rule, and he'd thought her well on her way back to the Azgeda homeland. To be here, in Polis, meant one thing – scheming.

To her left stood a Grounder that Bellamy knew the face of, but not the name. Yelende's second. By all accounts, just as brutal and ruthless.

What the hell was Indra doing accepting the two of them into her detail? What the hell was  _Octavia_  doing letting them join her in Polis?

'You are not welcome here, Bellamy kom Skaikru.' Indra's words were full of venom, her eyes narrowed. ' _Natrona_. The both of you.'

'I just want to talk to my sister.' Bellamy raised his hands, palms open and empty, and dropped his gaze slightly. Clarke shuffled her feet beside him, but he could see her raise her arms too. 'Please, Indra. Just five minutes with Octavia.'

One of the men snarled. 'Our Heda wants nothing to do with any who defy nature. Those who did not lead the way home have no right to an audience with Heda.'

He bristled.  _Home_? Octavia was calling the ruins of Polis  _home_?

In the sixteen years he'd had with her, in their room on the Ark, she'd said one sentence that stuck with him more than anything. ' _You'll be my home?_ ' A sentiment he'd brought back during their first year on the ground. ' _You'll always have a home with me_.'

But she'd made Polis a home?

'Indra.' Bellamy raised his gaze again, taking a half-step forward. Five guns came up to point at home, and he froze in position. 'Octavia's the only family I've got left. At least let me see that she's okay. Please.'

The glob of spit at his feet gave him his answer before Indra spoke the words. 'You deprived me of  _my_  family.  _My daughter_  died because you didn't care enough about  _your family_.' Her gun swung towards Clarke, and he had to stop himself from jumping in front of her as he had before. 'The great Wanheda is more important to you than those you profess to be family.'

It wasn't like that. It  _wasn't_.

'Our Heda is healthy. But she has issued a kill order on all  _natrona_  who live within steel. Do not return to Polis, Bellamy. The next time we see you, it will be to put a bullet through your skull, just as Gaia suffered.'

::

Clarke stopped the Rover a little over two miles from Polis, at the edge of what had once been a stream but was now a dried up river bed filled with rocks. It was the perfect place for him to vent frustrations, as he discovered when he slammed the Rover door shut and grabbed up a handful of smaller pebbles to throw into the distance.

The burning in his shoulder helped to kill his fury after the fifth pebble, and the warmth told him it was because he'd ripped open at least part of the wound again. The pain, though, was nothing compared to the emotions he felt; the anger, the frustration, the despair.

Octavia didn't want to see him.

Really, he should have known. She'd been like this once before. After Lincoln's death, she'd not wanted a thing to do with Bellamy – to the point of beating him bloody. But she'd never gone as far as threatening to kill him. To kill everyone she'd once regarded as friends.

Just what had happened to her down in the Bunker? The girl he'd watched climb down the stairs and into her rightful position as leader was not the girl who'd emerged, looking for blood and death. Six years could change a person, but could it change them that much?

Indra had the excuse of grief, at least. To an extent, Octavia did, but she'd had worse deaths. Seen them, twice over. Aurora and Lincoln. Two of the people she loved more than anyone else. They hadn't turned her into a bloodthirsty killer – but what had?

He didn't realise he'd asked the question aloud until Clarke, perched on the hood of the Rover, answered him.

'The memories.' She lay against the window, one knee bent, boot resting against the bonnet as her other leg dangled over the front of the vehicle. She didn't look at him, instead focusing her gaze on the clouds high above them. 'The Octavia you raised felt trapped, but she had you and your mother – and she didn't know any different. She'd always known that cramped space. The Octavia you locked in the Bunker six years ago had tasted freedom. Companionship. Love. Being locked in a confined space for six years brought back the memories of the first time, and the memories of freedom fought with them.'

'But what would that –'

'Face it, Bellamy. None of us are exactly sane after everything we've been through. Being put into a position of leadership of warring clans in the Bunker probably snapped more than one thread of sanity.' Clarke turned her head, resting her cheek against her shoulder as their gazes met. 'Once she's truly realised she's free, and healthy, and that she doesn't have to remain Heda if she doesn't want to – her mind might ease. Give her a few weeks, maybe a few months, and try again.'

His hand opened, the last few pebbles dropping back to the ground as he crossed the space to her. 'You sound like you speak from experience.'

'Because I do.' He could see the pain still there behind her eyes, the torment of loneliness she'd endured. 'One main friend on the Ark, then a year in solitary, then a year of friendships, only for another year of solitary before five years of only have one person to speak to. It's not the same, but the circumstances are similar enough that I've been there.' She smiled softly. 'So have you, with the Ark, then the ground, and then back to the Ring. We've all bounced back and forth and had two warring memories, fighting when we didn't know it.'

He slumped against the Rover door, and she tilted her head upwards so she could maintain eye contact. Bellamy sighed, resigned.

Maybe Clarke was right. Maybe Octavia just needed more time.

He'd gone six years without his sister. What was a few more months?

::

They made it to a broken, cliffy terrain just as the sun set over the horizon. Clarke brought the Rover to a stop again, drumming her fingers on the wheel as she sat lost in thought. Bellamy watched the little furrow that appeared in her brow, the curve of her lips as she frowned, and stretched an arm across to lay his hand over her shoulder.

She jumped, her spinning around to face him. Her eyes were wide, black pupils drowning the blue. 'You okay?' he asked, and she swallowed before answering.

'The last time Madi and I were here was about two years ago. We left to check on Polis.' She glanced back towards the narrow road he could just about see through the fast-approaching darkness, fingers tapping out a haphazard rhythm. 'We'd heard some radio calls from them. Not many, but some. Enough for us to know they were alive. But we'd been hearing snippets of other conversations in the Bunker that concerned us, so we left to check on them. When we got there, we could hear it clearer.' She hunched her shoulders, dropping her chest forward to lean against the wheel. For just a brief moment, the horn blared out before she adjusted herself.

'There had been a rockslide since we'd last been. Two of the turbines had been blocked from the initial collapse – but this blocked a third, leaving just the one operational. Obviously, that was a cause for alarm for them and they tried to send a team out early to unblock the turbine. That's when they discovered they were trapped.' She shuddered, and Bellamy's hand slid to her back, rubbing soft circles over her jacket. 'After that, it was chaos down there. We could hear orders going back and forth as they tried to find a way out without alerting the general populous. The last transmission we got was cut off by screaming – lots of different voices, all yelling and shouting and screaming obscenities.'

'Everyone finding out about the blockage?'

'That was our assumption.' She nodded into the wheel. 'After that, we tried to reopen communication. But you know how well that went.' She scoffed. 'When we couldn't get anything more from them, we decided to camp out. We tried to move some of the rocks ourselves but it was impossible without any gear, so we just … we lived in a tent for a few months, just beyond the Polis turbine, and then we moved back to the dropship where we stayed until the ship first appeared. We never came back here.'

'Well, now you know that those in the Bunker are free, and those that remain are healthy and safe.' Bellamy turned his focus back to her, pulling his hand away from her back. She turned her head, her hair slipping across her forehead to obscure her gaze. He stroked his fingers across her cheek, sweeping the hair behind her ear as she watched him. 'You did the best you could when you were on your own, Clarke. Don't beat yourself up about it anymore.' His fingers lingered on her cheek, resting against the faint blush she wore. 'C'mon. We're not far away now, are we?'

Clarke cleared her throat, pulling back slightly so she could resettle herself in her seat. 'Twenty minutes or so.' She shuffled, then finally nodded. 'You hungry?'

Always.

::

They stopped at the edge of a grassy field, several crude buildings surrounding it. Bellamy could see a damaged church, a hole in the roof patched up with fabric that he recognised from the Ark to keep the rain out. To the right, two huts were built from random lengths of wood bound by rope. Under one sat two chairs, with a table between them; under the second was a cooking pot surrounded by sacks. Flies hovered around those, likely those they'd filled with berries and other perishables before the last time they'd left. Those would have to be disposed of, likely in the morning. They had enough food in the back to have something to eat this evening.

'There's blankets and mattresses inside the church. That's where we were sleeping.' Clarke raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. 'We may have raided Arkadia a few times after we found this place.'

Bellamy snorted. 'Not like anything there was being used, Clarke.' He pushed his door open, sliding out as Clarke unlocked her own. 'You want to radio the ship?'

'Sure.' Clarke's footsteps stopped as he rounded the back of the Rover, unlocking it so he could reach inside to grab the bag of food and the smaller bag of medicine that Abby had sent them off with. When he dropped it to the floor beside him to shut the Rover up again, the radio clicked on. 'Raven? It's Clarke.'

There was a beat, during which Clarke joined him again, before a response came through. 'Finally. Where the hell have you been? We've been waiting for your call all day.'

'We just made it to the green spot. Sorry.' Clarke raised her brows, slumping against the Rover as Bellamy shook his head at Raven's typical sass. 'We went via Polis. Raven, make sure nobody goes near. Octavia's put a kill order in place for all of us – Gagarin, Skaikru, and those in Wonkru who didn't go with her.'

'Well shit.' Raven sighed, and Bellamy could just picture her leaning forward, resting her head on her hand as she sat at a worktable. The way she'd done repeatedly for years whenever something went wrong. 'I'll let Kane and Rina know. They can spread it around to everyone. Any idea what the safe zone is?'

'Unfortunately not. Indra let us go this time, but … my guess would be a mile, maybe two, from the Polis border?' Bellamy shrugged. It was a reasonable guess. 'Just keep away from it for now. Until we can talk to Octavia and get this resolved, we don't need any more deaths.'

'Got it.' There was the sound of scribbling over the radio as Raven presumably noted that down. 'So. You going radio silent now, I guess?'

Clarke's cheeks turned red, and Bellamy stifled a laugh. 'We'll speak to you in a few days, Raven. Go tell Kane.'

She switched the radio off before Raven's response came through, tossing it from one hand to the other as she struggled to meet Bellamy's gaze. 'This everything we need for tonight?' Before he could answer, she grabbed the bag from the ground, turning her back to him as she began to cross towards the church.

Bellamy followed, unable to deny the humour Raven had instilled in him.

::

'Clarke.'

Her fingers were gentle, pressing around the edge of the bandage on his shoulder. She'd barely met his gaze as they had eaten the food Louise had sent with them, instead glancing around the church at the crumbling bricks and hanging wires. In the morning, they'd have to go around and fix up the wiring to get the lights on. For now, the fire they'd managed to start was illuminating the church enough for them to do the necessary jobs to prepare for the night. Enough for him to see the way she deliberately diverted her gaze every time she failed to keep him from noticing her stares.

Now, as she pressed the tape against his skin, she hummed her acknowledgement of her name but didn't look up. He sighed, lifting his other hand until he could slip a finger under her chin. 'Hey. Look at me.'

With the smallest bit of pressure, he lifted her chin until she looked at him, hand hovering over his freshly bound wound. 'Are you sure you're okay? You don't want to go back to the ship?'

She shook her head, almost slipping from his hold. 'No. I want to be here.' She glanced down, at her hand, before raising her gaze to him again. 'With you.'

That was more like it. He smiled at her as her hand flattened against his shoulder, her small palm warm against his chilled skin. 'How are you feeling?'

'Calm.' Bellamy rubbed his thumb against her lower lip, and her mouth opened slightly. 'Calmer than I've been in a long time.' He slid himself forward on his seat, until he was inches from the edge, Clarke's kneeling for between his legs. 'Thank you, Clarke.'

He kissed her before she could respond, bringing his other hand up to rest against her side as she straightened her back, putting her at a better level to return it. Her right hand drifted down, past the new bandages, to rest over his chest, while her left rested on his leg, supporting herself.

It was tender, and though there was some urgency there, it didn't overwhelm them as it had the very first time they'd kissed. This time, it was more – getting to know each other again, in a time of peace, with a chance to actually explore emotions they hadn't been able to acknowledge before.

It was … not quite perfect, but damn near.

::

The two mattresses, kept on either side of the church, were pushed together, the blankets stretched to cover both of them. With the fire kept low, the two huddled close together – not quite embracing, but not far. Bellamy, on his back in deference to his reopened wound, had one arm stretched out to the side and up at a bit of an angle, a little above Clarke's head as she curled on her side, back to Bellamy. She had shuffled backwards as she drifted to sleep, until she just touched him.

It was a comfortable sort of affection, which neither had felt for years, if ever. Bellamy definitely couldn't remember feeling such warmth before. He'd spent a long time seeking it, with fling after fling after first arriving, but none had given him this feeling.

Struggling to sleep, he turned his head, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see much since Clarke wasn't facing him, but wanting to watch her nonetheless. It was almost an impossible dream, after all the time he'd spent regretting not being honest with her before her apparent death. To be here, with her … God, how did he get so lucky?

He slid his arm down, pulling it back into his side. Careful not to disturb Clarke, he twisted himself until he was lying on his side, only a small gap between the two of them. She didn't stir, lost in her dreams, even as he brushed her hair back. She definitely needed to find something to secure it away from her face once it was slightly longer.

She looked beyond peaceful. Her lips were curved, lashes brushing her cheeks, and her brow was smooth. Whatever she saw in her dreams, she enjoyed.

Seeking that same bliss, Bellamy folded his arm over her stomach, closing that tiny gap between them.

::

They spent the following day fixing up the church, as Bellamy had anticipated. Their first job was fixing the hole they didn't even realise had opened up in the roof, as the rain that had started that morning dripped through onto Bellamy's forehead, waking him. Though they both carried bullet wounds to the shoulder, with Bellamy's being open, Clarke was the one fixing the fabric to the inside of the roof while he found a ladder tucked away against one of the walls to climb up to the outside and fix another there.

Once that was done, massaging their shoulders, the two set up a new cooking pot within the church. The corner opposite the beds they'd pushed together was their best option. One look at the cooking pot outside led to them discarding it. Clarke's growl of, ' _Madi_!' clued Bellamy into the fact it was likely the young girl's job to clear the pot after the last use, and for whatever reason, she hadn't. They tossed the bags of expired food into it, before dashing back into the church for cover as the rain continued to beat down on them.

Back inside, they curled up beside the fire to dry off, nibbling at the dried meat from their supplies, before Clarke checked on both his wounds. Once satisfied, and dried, they set about fixing up the lights. Not that they would be much use that day, they laughed together upon Clarke's forlorn statement that they were solar powered.

Not able to do much more for that day, by four o'clock, they curled up by the fire again, this time leaning back against a crate Bellamy pushed into place. Clarke leaned into his side, head resting on his good shoulder as he wrapped his arm around hers.

They spoke of their childhoods – Clarke told him about growing up privileged on the Ark, what was expected of her being the daughter of the primary doctor and the chief engineer. Bellamy told her what the opposite was like, growing up with barely enough to sustain him even before he had to start sharing his food with Octavia. He shared some of the stories he'd learned too, the ones his mother had told him or that he'd picked up by himself from the books he had access to.

By the time they were both fighting sleep, about three hours later, Bellamy had remembered something from a long time ago that Clarke would probably want to know. Glancing through the window to the rainy exterior, he shifted his aching legs as Clarke fed the fire for warmth and to help them stay awake.

'This place is nice,' he murmured as she came to sit beside him again. She grinned, stretching her legs in front of her. 'Do you remember after we first landed, when we went out to find those guns and got attacked by that guy?'

'Oh wow.' She tilted her head back until it met the crate. 'With the nuts?'

'Yep.' Though much faded – he didn't even remember the kid's name – Bellamy  _did_  remember afterwards, when Clarke saved him. 'The first time we forgave each other.' She grasped at his hand at that. 'I was going to run. Leave the dropship, leave the hundred, and get the hell out of there before the Ark came down.'

'But you didn't.'

'No. I didn't.' He let his head fall backwards too, shaking his hair from his eyes before sliding them shut. 'I was thinking of asking you to come with me, you know? Even all the way back then. I just wanted to get away, and for you to come with me.'

'Bellamy.' Clarke's voice was little more than a whisper. 'If we didn't have to worry about the Grounders … who knows, I may have agreed.'

That made his eyes snap open, and he turned to her. 'What's been has been. We're here now.'

He wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

::

By the end of the fifth day, they'd pretty much cleared everything. The lights were finally working, the chairs had been pulled inside to dry off and provide a decent place to sit, and their little cooking corner had been equipped with more supplies. Through the small door to the side of it, they'd thrown together a little cabin to steam fresh meat – Clarke had managed to down a boar on the third day, on her way back from checking the route to a nearby stream for them to gather water and wash in.

Happy in their little sanctuary, Bellamy lay on the mattress, staring up at the mismatched blankets they'd tacked to the ceiling to help insulate the church. Clarke was across the room, sketchbook open in her lap, pencil rubbing across the page. The noise was soothing, and Bellamy struggled to keep his eyes open. The warmth of the fire washed over him, begging him to give in to sleep.

He nearly did. But it didn't feel quite right. He'd spent the last few nights curled up around Clarke, even through the nightmares that occasionally crept up on him. His arms felt too empty right then.

The scratching of the pencil stopped, and he turned his head to see Clarke watching him over the top of her sketchbook. 'If you frown any harder, you'll get wrinkles,' she teased, tugging the book against her chest. 'What's on your mind?'

He rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back into place so he was again staring at the ceiling. 'Just … thinking.'

'What about?' The rustle of pages clued him in to her moving. Abandoning the book on the chair, she knelt on the mattress beside him, weight resting more on her left side as she planted her hand by the side of his stomach. Her little finger brushed the exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up, and he shivered. 'Are you worried about Octavia still?'

He sighed. 'She's my little sister. I'm always going to be worried about her.'

Clarke's smile was sad. 'You know, even knowing about the one child rule on the Ark, I always wanted a sibling. Older, younger, brother, sister, I didn't care. I just wanted someone to play with, to moan about my parents with.' She shook her head. 'Stupid rule. Stupid Ark.'

'It wasn't all fun and games,' Bellamy reminded her, and she had the grace to look embarrassed. 'Some days, even without being trapped in such a confined space with her, Octavia and I just did not get along. We argued like nobody's business at times. Our mom got so fed up of it. More than once, I had to make up a story about how I got a particular bruise or scratch – walked into a door, tripped over a chair, brushed against my mom's sewing equipment – just so people didn't get suspicious that it was a fight with the sister I wasn't supposed to have.'

Clarke's right hand came up to brush against his arm, the metal of her brace snagging against his sleeve until the skin of his bicep was exposed. Her fingers were hesitant, but soothing, as they traced patterns against him. 'But … it was nice, knowing I wasn't alone. That there was someone else in my family, not just me and my mom.'

'What about your dad?'

'Floated when I was a few months old.' Bellamy shrugged. 'He got caught in a restricted area. Wouldn't tell anyone why he was there, so they floated him as a risk to life.' That was the story his mother had told him when she thought he was old enough to handle it, anyway. He hadn't had the clearance to check through old files during his brief stint as a cadet, and even back on the Ring for six years, half the data files had been corrupted so he hadn't been able to locate it then either.

'I'm sorry.' Clarke's body slumped a little, and he raised his other hand to cup her cheek. 'What about Octavia's dad? Any idea who he was?'

'No. Mom never said.' He wished he knew. If he knew, and the bastard was still alive, Bellamy would like to have a few words with him. Preferably by a long drop, depending on what the guy had to say. 'You probably noticed, O looks like our mom more than anyone else, so we couldn't even go on physical similarities. And it's not noted in her prisoner file despite the DNA test they were sure to have completed.'

'Maybe that's for the best.' At his questioning look, she elaborated. 'What if it were someone you knew – someone you respected? It would change how you saw them, what you thought of them. And there are too few people who deserve the respect we show them already.'

'Maybe you're right.' Bellamy dropped his hand from her cheek, sliding his eyes shut. 'It doesn't matter anyway. Knowing the shitty luck we've all had, the bastard died on the Ark and we'll never know the truth.'

Clarke made a noncommittal noise, before tapping at his arm. 'Come on. I want to check your wound's closed up again. Shirt off.'

He was only too happy to oblige her, throwing the fabric in the general direction of their bags before lying back down on the mattress as she shuffled around. Probing fingers pulled off the bandage, then traced around his wound, before she made another low mumble he didn't quite catch.

'Next time you decide to rip open a wound, consult me first, okay?'

'I don't plan to do anymore, don't worry.' Bellamy grinned up at her, knowing she wasn't referring just to the bullet wound, but the scars on his other arm from the crash landing Raven had executed to get them back down to Earth. He'd not given it time to recover from a pipe being shoved through it, and the scar was more than enough evidence of that. 'Besides, I have one of the best people on hand to fix me up, don't I?'

'You have someone with passable stitching skills who knows the plant life, you mean.' Clarke slapped weakly at his chest, eyes shining with delight. 'I'd rather you stay in one piece from now on, if you don't mind.' Her hand lingered, fingers spreading across his chest. He took a deep breath, body stirring to life.

They hadn't touched like this since that first time, back in Arkadia. Not properly. Changing bandages didn't count – that was detached, methodical. This wasn't. This was deliberate, explorative touches with the aim to explore, not treat. And not in the rushed way it had been the only other time.

Clarke's hand slowly swept down his chest, dancing around the raised edges of his other bullet wound, before pulling across his stomach. His muscles bunched in response, and his breath turned raspy. Her gaze was focused on the trail of goosebumps following in her wake, and not on his suddenly lidded eyes.

'Clarke,' he whispered, and she smiled.

With careful movements, she raised herself to her knees, removing her hand as she instead reached over to rest it against the mattress on his other side. Her left knee raised, then stretched over until she was sat back on his thighs.

He raised his hands, resting them against her waist as she leaned forward to bring their lips together. Her blonde hair fell around them, tickling his cheeks with the gentle sway as their kiss built in intensity. Her tongue slipped between his lips, then moments later she retreated a little as he caught her lower lip in protest.

She traced a path from his mouth to his neck, shifting her knees until she could support herself without her hands. Pulling away completely, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt instead, smoothly pulling it over her head and dropping it to the side.

Bellamy's eyes drank in her pale skin, skipping over the blemishes – the bullet wound on her shoulder, the pale scars on her chest from a scalpel, the rough skin on her stomach from the radiation burns. They didn't matter to him. They made Clarke, Clarke. They were a part of her, adding to what made her herself.

She leaned back over him before he could move, and his hands rose up her sides until he found the fabric of her bra. The old movies he'd found on the Ark made it look easy – a clasp at the back. The bras provided on the Ark weren't anywhere near, with no fastening, and after a few failed attempts to hook his fingers beneath it to pull it up, she took pity on him with a deep chuckle.

He watched as she straightened again, dragging the fabric over her generous chest with ease he was envious of. Once free, she seemed to pause, uncertain; one arm hovered close, not quite covering, but ready to obscure herself from his gaze.

He tilted his head, a soft smile on his lips. 'Clarke,' he whispered, running his hands back down her waist. 'If you're not comfortable, it's fine.'

She shook her head. 'It's not … Sorry. For a moment I got lost in the past.' She dropped her arms, resting her palms on his stomach. The muscles clenched tight, and he had to fight back a moan. 'Ignore me.'

He shook his head, making sure to meet her gaze. 'If there's anything that makes you uncomfortable, you just need to say. I won't force you into anything.'

'Stop talking, Bellamy.' She swept down again, and he pushed his unease to the back of his mind as she threw herself into a kiss. Her fingers trailed patterns up and down his chest, making him shudder. Without full control, his hands came up again, squeezing between them to cup her chest. Her groan vibrated against him.

As slow as they were trying to take it – and for the two of them, this could be regarded as either really slow, or very fast, depending on which stage of their relationship you looked at – they couldn't deny themselves for long. Within minutes, they were shimmying out of their trousers, Bellamy raising his hips as Clarke tugged them open, and her having to shuffle from his lap long enough to divest herself of the garment. Her warmth was a welcome return, bare as she was when she sat herself above him again.

The chill from outside was forgotten as fingers and palms travelled new paths, exploring reactions they didn't know. Whimpers of pleasure arose from her, and he sucked in his breath whenever she did something particularly enjoyable.

But they couldn't hold off anymore. Clarke knew it, moving herself into position with one hand between them, the other resting over his heart. Her brace had been thrown somewhere haphazardly, leaving them with skin contact. No metal.

Her warmth enveloped him, and her chin fell open when she sat back on her thighs. In that moment, she was beautiful, scars and all.

It was a little awkward, finding a pace that suited them. The last time they'd done this, it had been driven a little by anger, a little by longing, and more from impatience. Anything worked for them then. This time, though, it wasn't rough and hurried. It was soft. Slow. Learning one another – Clarke learned that Bellamy liked a particular flex she could do, and he learned that she would clench her fingers, leaving gouges in his skin, whenever he rolled his hips up into hers.

He was close, so close. Clarke's eyes were closed, face tilted back towards the ceiling. She had one hand behind her, holding onto his thigh for support, and the other was between them. Bellamy watched in fascination as the muscles moved beneath the skin, not quite blocking him from seeing beyond to where they were joined.

The visual was enough to send him over the edge, and his fingers tightened on her hips. Some distant part of him thought it would be nice if she bruised, if she had some evidence of this on her in the morning. He would definitely be wearing some, considering the scratches he could already see on his chest.

Clarke held him in place as he came down from his high, face flushed and eyes wide, but smiling when he looked at her again. He returned it, breath shaky, before noticing her hand was still between them.

'Shit, Clarke, sorry.' He'd been so lost in chasing his own pleasure he hadn't even realised she hadn't found hers. She shook her head, but he was already in motion, nudging her hand out of the way with one of his.

He didn't have the same intimate knowledge of her body as she did, but he did have the enthusiasm. Still holding him inside, he knew the moment he managed to work her to the edge as she bit her lip, leaning forward over him as he dragged his fingers back and forth. Seconds later, she came apart.

'Damn,' Bellamy whispered when she raised her hips, freeing him, before rolling to lie beside him. In silence, they stared up at the ceiling as they each caught their breath.

Finally, Clarke turned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. 'This isn't the part where you tell me you didn't want this again, is it?'

He frowned. What was she –

Crap. In Arkadia.

'When I said that, it didn't come out right.' He turned his head so he could face her. 'I'd just been told Octavia might be dead before I saw her again, I wasn't in the right frame of mind. When I said that, I meant that I didn't want it to happen like that. I wanted it to be … well, more like this.'

Tension he hadn't noticed left her face, and she lowered herself down again until she was nestled against his side. Her right hand came up, sliding over his chest until she found his heart again.

He'd ask her about that another time. Right now he needed sleep. He also needed to clean up, but with the only choice being boiling water, he'd deal with it once everything had dried and he'd had chance to sleep.

::

Their routine didn't drastically alter, despite the new facet of their relationship. They spent the days doing as they had been – gathering food, fixing up parts of their little camp, then spending the evenings reading, sketching or talking. The main difference was when they went to bed for the night. Instead of curling around one another to sleep, they'd often explore each other a little more first.

Bellamy was more attentive each time they had sex, ensuring that Clarke wasn't left behind when he finished. She would roll her eyes, but her tune would always change when he helped her find glorious release, both before and during.

It wasn't often they'd stop in the middle of the day to find the time. Over the course of the next two weeks, in which the stress from the past seven years finally completely melted, they'd only broken their routine twice. Once had been at the stream. Bellamy had approached as Clarke was washing up, and before either of them thought twice about it, he had her on her back on the bank.

The second time was the middle of the day, when Bellamy once again tore part of his shoulder wound open. Damn logs. Clarke sat him down on one of the chairs, then set about putting a fresh bandage on. Once finished, she surprised him by sliding over him right there in the chair, resulting in them nearly toppling off after one ill-timed thrust from him.

They stuck to bigger, sturdier places after that.

But for the most part, they kept the same. A gentle touch to the back as one passed the other, lasting for just a second; a quick meeting of eyes before returning to what they'd been doing. They didn't need the constant gratification just going about their lives.

At the end of their third week in their camp, wrapped in blankets but not much else, Clarke rested her ear over Bellamy's chest as they lay outside. The stars high above were bright that night, but she had no interest in them.

Bellamy's fingers stroked through her hair, soothing her as she walked that delicate line between awake and in slumber. It was only the vibrations in his chest that alerted her to the fact he was talking.

She raised her head, and he repeated his question when she didn't answer. 'Why do you spend so much time listening to my heartbeat?'

With a sigh, she lowered herself back down, tracing one hand across his chest and down to his stomach – and then lower. His body tensed at her touch. 'I told you before. Everyone I care for, I lose. Listening to your heartbeat … it proves to me that you're still here. That you've not gone anywhere, for any reason.'

Well, he couldn't argue with that, now, could he?

Especially not while she put into practice the tricks she'd been learning.

::

It was Madi's arrival with fresh supplies that made the decision.

Nearly a month after breaking away from the Gagarin, Bellamy and Clarke awaited a supply drop from Raven, Zeke and Abby. To their surprise, when they met the truck at the little pass (if you didn't know where to go, you weren't going anywhere) it was to Madi jumping out of the truck.

She immediately threw her arms around Clarke, promising quite loudly to not be separated from her for that long again. Bellamy could see in Clarke's face that the feeling was mutual. Though they'd been quite happy in their own company, the bond Clarke and Madi shared couldn't be easily replicated by anyone.

The girl chatted non-stop in the Rover as the three of them led the way into their little green space. Clarke laughed at some of the comments, and Bellamy smirked as Madi regaled them with stories of Murphy's experiments with his new hand. Not believing Zeke that he would have decent strength, he'd apparently managed to give himself and the poor engineer black eyes.

Sounded like Murphy.

Back by the church, Madi bounced around, admiring the changes that had been made and kicking stones when Clarke reminded her of the chores she'd failed to do the last time she was here. The cooking pot was long gone, tossed into a ditch between the mountains where the ground had split, but the memory of the smell still plagued him from time to time.

Raven gave them a knowing look, and Zeke elbowed her. Abby didn't make any obvious observations, but she did pull Clarke aside when dinner was started (with vegetables from the Gagarin that made Bellamy's mouth water). When they returned, Clarke was blushing, and upon Bellamy's prompting when they had a moment alone, revealed her mother had decided to have the sex-talk.

Never mind that Clarke was in her mid-twenties and most definitely  _not_  a virgin.

Bellamy got some strange looks for his laughter.

When morning came, and the four visitors packed up their belongings, it was Bellamy who stepped forward. Overnight, he and Clarke had discussed many things. The first, being that Madi stay with them if she so desired.

Of course she did. It was Madi, after all.

'We were thinking,' Clarke added, as Bellamy wrapped an arm around Madi's shoulders as the girl hugged him. 'This place is fairly big. Bigger than the three of us need. And it has decent supplies. Farmable land. A stream nearby. Why not open this up to others – anyone who wants to get away from the ship?'

'Hell, sounds like a plan.' Zeke clapped his hands together. 'I know I'm fed up of the Gagarin.' At Raven's slap to his stomach, he grunted. 'What?'

'We'll think about it,' Raven answered for him. 'And we'll pass the message on to the others.' She shot a glance at her partner, who frowned down at her. 'Got a name for this place? All settlements must have a name.'

Madi piped up before Clarke could answer.

'It's right by Eden's Pass, so it should be called Eden. Right?' 

**Author's Note:**

> There may end up being another chapter to this, focusing on another part of the story I don't feel I've wrapped up well enough yet - but then again, there may not be because I can't get it to come out right. So we'll see.
> 
> Thank you for reading an additional part to my speculative season five universe!
> 
> Tears x


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